


Judaz Kiss

by FionasEmbrace



Series: Vekta has let you down [1]
Category: Killzone (Video Games)
Genre: Interrogation, M/M, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FionasEmbrace/pseuds/FionasEmbrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the mission to stop the Black Hand goes awry, Kellan finds himself captured by the cold-blooded, sadistic overseer of New Helghan security.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Judaz Kiss

The riot shields. The bag. He didn't think it would happen again.

In the year 2390 AD the intraplantary conflict on Vekta drew on and on. The Helghast were relentless in seizing absolute control over their half- if not by winning the hearts of the people, then through subordination and military occupation. As long as there was war, Lucas Kellan's role in the VSA stayed the same. The VSA were the sole protective authority over the Vektan half of the capital. It was less than a year since the last time Lucas Kellan allowed himself to be captured by New Helghan Security for the purpose of information-gathering. He accepted that as a Shadow Marshal, these types of risks were a necessity. If not an official part of the job description, it was a means of maintaining his mentor Thomas Sinclair's absolute faith in him. And he remembered that in the first time around, he had no fear.

That first time, the two sides of the capital were subject to an uneasy cease-fire. This temporary suspension of the military raids was achieved through a large number of concessions to the Vektan side made by Helghan Chancellor Visari. Visari didn't share same the manner of extreme beliefs as people like Stahl or Tyran. And this was before the Black Hand, a terrorist group, had taken any action on the capital, and before the scientist Massar's development of Stahl's bio-weapon. These two incendiary events gave way to the war; before that, there simply wasn't enough legitimate grounds for either side to begin a serious military campaign.

And at that time, Kellan simply turned himself in, knowing that he was a pawn in this much larger problem. Helghast security had scarcely anything to gain from him in the way of information, or leverage in some not-yet-forseen conflict, and their force certainly had no reason to stake out a personal vendetta against him. Even though he did not co-operate with them at all, they were willing to release him back to VSA forces completely unscathed. It was just as well, since the Helghast could likewise obtain one of their most valuable operatives from the VSA at the same time as letting Kellan go. Visari was especially supportive of the plan and approved of it despite protest from some of the lesser government, since it came with the possibility of reducing the tension between the two factions.

Now, it was different. The tensions between New Helghan and the Vektan sides of the planet were stronger than ever, and he had done enough damage to their military body to make them sorely regret that little prisoner exchange.

Kellan's recent assignments near the Wall didn't win him any friends with the Helghast. While rescuing a downed VSA squadron on the Vektan side, Kellan dispatched a great number of Helghast forces, caused tremendous damage to their military base and armory, and brought down a beloved national monument, a four-hundred-foot-tall statue of Scholar Visari.

Now, he combed through the decrepit slums of Containment City, where the VSA's newest target was rumored to be. He always had impressions of what it could look like, but nothing compared to the real thing. The city was a dirty, sprawling urban expanse. Where there wasn't overcrowdedness and holdups on the streets, there was pollution from the petrucite import plants. The whole place was so overwrought with poverty and petty crime, even the mighty Helghast federal police had long given up on maintaining control there. It was too expensive a problem to be worth solving, especially with the next-to-nothing tax revenue collected from there. Because the state government had all but given up on the place, and there was no local enforcement, the city descended into a permanent state of quasi-anarchy.

Anyway, more police couldn't save this place. He was here for one thing only: to wipe out the rebel group the Black Hand, and arrest Vladko Tyran, its leader. He looked ahead in search of the terrorist leader, hoping to avoid any detection. He had made it this far, even having disguised himself as a refugee to get passage into this cesspool. It can't be too far from here. He made his way through another back-alley and out of the industrial complex. The air was cold and somehow heavy, thick with fumes from industry. A breeze blew some propaganda papers and trash around.

The footpaths were all cracked, ill-maintained cement that networked out into the sweat and smog, dotted with huge alarm beacons and neon glowing checkpoint stations. Even out here, there were clothes lines with old, tattered rags; signs of actual inhabitants even here, right next to the factory. How anyone could live in a place like this he would never know. Kellan already gave away some of his money and medical supplies to the impoverished people here, although it was only a gesture really, since it could never make a dent in all their problems. He passed through the lines of storage containers used as residences and into another factory complex.

When he saw them, he immediately knew. It was the Black Hand lackeys' masked faces, the combination of military gear and street clothes, Tyran boarding the helicopter. The same moment he was chasing after them and caught up in a skirmish with Tyran himself, he was ejected from the aircraft right into a partition of an enemy base. Having lost his weapon and damaged his equipment in the altercation, he was utterly defenseless. Fuck, and he was this close. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

The alarm pealed all around, then there was a huge pit in his stomach. The world just came crumbling down and collapsed. His last experience facing capture by the Helghast Security was nothing like this. All he could remember was being surrounded, then the beatdown, then the bag over his head. It was unbelievable- and this is what bothered him the most- he was _this_ close to catching the terrorist leader of the Black Hand and ending them once and for all.

* * *

The mesh bag was lifted and the world came in and out of focus; he was awakened by a sharp kick to the leg. He saw the two red, illuminated eyes glaring into his and in that terrifying moment he tried to mentally register whom it was. Those two red eyepieces were the immediate giveaway of a Helghast, but the man had a certain presence unlike any of the others. It was someone that he recognized.

Typical for the high-ranking Helghast, he bore the respiratory facepiece concealing everything from the eyes downward. The breathing aids were a thing of practical necessity back on their home planet Helghan, where the noxious atmosphere would otherwise cause health problems over long-term exposure. Here on Vekta, the air was safe. But, the masks remained as a tradition, a visual cue of a person's loyalty, and occasionally a medically necessary respirator for those still with symptoms. In some cases, they served a more practical purpose to resuscitate fallen soldiers, since they were connected to a related apparatus near the person's midsection. It was quite an effective design so it persisted throughout the years and ranks. The VSA eschewed these concepts in its gear in favor of a lighter load and increased mobility.

The bald head was another typical Helghast trait, independent of a person's age. Prolonged exposure to the atmosphere on planet Helghan, in addition to the other wealth of bizarre health problems, was known to cause hair on one's head to fall out, thin or stop growing altogether. This varied from person to person. So, it became a stereotype of the Helghast. It was no longer really true of those who emmigrated to planet Vekta, and sometimes it was partially reversible over time, but those who grew up on Helghan certainly were at risk. Kellan supposed the official fell into this category. People who were native Helghan had vastly different experiences than those from New Helghan. Many from the home planet had witnessed the whole planet's destruction firsthand, so all that remain are the survivors of the disaster.

He didn't need to see the man's face. As reality pieced back in, Kellan realized he was face-to-face with a certain high-ranking Helghast official, the overseer- or should he say, inquisitor- of New Helghan Security; it was the same man who oversaw his last capture and release. He even knew the name- a certain Anton Saric. A key personality in Helghast military enforcement, Saric was officially known as the ruthless High Commander of New Helghan Security. It was made clear to Kellan during his first capture that the man's hatred of the VSA was personal and long-standing.

Kellan determined his hatred of Vektans must be political in nature, as opposed to the racial tensions had by the other groups. He knew this because Saric took the ownership of training a certain Echo, an operative for Helghast military interests who was known to be more than half Vektan biologically. If he hated the presence of Vektans the same way as the propaganda ministers at the time did, he would never have taken her under his wing. That being said, he did have a personal crusade to seize Vekta back for the Helghast, wiping out all Vektans who stood in the way. The reclaiming of the planet was worth any price paid including the razing of cities and human life.

He spoke in a deep, muffled voice as they are normally masked by the Helghan facepieces.

"Do you know what brings you here, Shadow Marshal?" It was that same condescending tone as last time, and referring to him by rank. They both already knew the answer to that.

"Fuck off." Kellan was not in the mood. Not skipping a beat, Saric answered his own question.

"You're infiltrating our territory to shut down the Black Hand. Would you not say that's correct?" Kellan simply glowered and mumbled some curses under his breath. This angered Saric, who hit him squarely in the jaw and kicked him in the leg. For the Shadow Marshal, the world was still fading back into consciousness. Kellan did notice some blood on the floor, and couldn't even tell if it was his own. He had blacked out for a while and had no memory of what happened after being captured- the specifics of where he was, or who brought him here. He supposed that he was struck hard on the head. The kick from Saric's heavy boot agitated his pre-existing injury, but still was nothing he wasn't prepared for. The Helghast official, supposing that those couple blows might be enough coercion, asked again, "Is that correct!?"

Kellan bit back the pain in his stinging jaw. "You're wasting your time asking me anything. Suppose I was trying to eliminate Tyran." He swallowed, concealing his fear. "If you were like any sane organization, you would be fine with that. Hell, you would even give me your blessing. But you're not, because you're in league with them. The lives of Vektans, or the lives of your own citizens, they mean nothing to you. This is nothing new."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Shadow Marshal. Remember that I'm here, and you're in these." He gestured to the chains holding Kellan in place. Only now did he get a good look around. He was tethered to a chair, which itself was attached to some old metal pipes in the back of the room. The room looked only slightly bigger than a storage container. It was nothing like that tidy, bureaucratic-looking interrogation room they had him in before. That holding area looked more like a very modern-looking office. This was dirty and windowless. There were some other chains nearby, small implements and machines whose purpose he didn't want to imagine. He would guess that this room was some type of janitorial storage before it was fitted into a holding cell like this. He knew of people taken into custody of Helghan Security, never to be seen again, and wondered if this very room had something to do with it.

He noticed, also, that his gear was taken away, and he was wearing only his plain clothes. And of course, his firearms and attack drone were gone. It was worth a shot trying for his boot-knife, but alas, that was gone too. No doubt they scanned his body for weapons.

He stayed resolute. "I've got nothing to say to you about the Black Hand."

Ratting on the names of Black Hand operatives and locations of their operations was not really any skin of his back, but he wasn't interested in helping New Helghan's government voluntarily. Especially when for all he knows Saric could be all bark right now, no bite. His last capture left him unscathed, so who was to say that this would be any different? He got 'special treatment' once in the past. And if his suspicions were correct, and New Helghan Security were really having secret dealings with the Black Hand, any information he gave up would only serve to get the whole operation shut down by their enforcement. Now that Tyran was certainly on the Helghan side of the wall, the whole mission hinged upon infiltrating their territory uninhibited.

"Hmm." Saric muttered to himself. Abruptly the man strode up to him, Saric standing, Kellan still chained to the chair, so that he was eye level with some black partial armor and an intricate Helghast-insignia belt buckle. With a gloved hand, Saric struck him in the face once more, harder than the first time. Blood seeped out of his mouth. Fuck, that hurt. Too much more of this and he might risk losing a tooth. Then, he kept going. In between strikes, Saric barked, "I... HOPED... YOU.. WOULD... CO-OPERATE!" in between strikes, and Kellan spat out more blood onto the floor nearby.

Without waiting for a response, the officer's gloved hands closed around Kellan's neck, and he squeezed, preparing to choke him. Fuck, and he was even stronger than he looked. The grip went tighter, and tighter, not even wavering, until the man was gasping for air. He had clearly done this to people before. Trying to break them. The soldier choked and struggled aimlessly, but it was no use, and he began to feel a frightening lightness in his joints, and dizziness. Scary as it was he felt a high, mixed with the reflex to panic. Surely, they wouldn't kill him here... Not like this... Saric put his full weight forward, enough to nudge Kellan and the chair backward across the floor.

After those agonizing few moments, Saric released his grip so that the other man could breathe and speak. After some coughing he blissfully found all the feeling restoring to his joints. Maybe it was possible that Saric could kill a man with his bare hands. Maybe his own life didn't have any value to the Helghast Security anymore. Maybe the VSA was out of bargaining chips to solve all of this. The future looked murky, didn't it. But, he had to get out of here in one piece.

The official bent down so that he was eye-level with the Shadow Marshal. The red glow from the visor emitted so much glare it was all he could see. He wondered what the Helghast was seeing right now, through that optical overlay they all used. "Now, will you be more helpful?" Catching his breath, he returned to his calm demeanor. Saric rarely became worked up during a questioning. His words were always restrained, more decorous than his subordinates in the enforcement. He collected himself.

"The answer, it's yes." The word was bitter in his mouth. He needed to try and placate the Helghast, but give them as little information as possible.

An intrigued pause. "Yes, what?"

"About the Black Hand. There is a warrant, for Tyran." Kellan needed to have a stronger will than this. Hell if he would let the likes of Saric or his team break him.

The officer had a slight look of amused acknowledgement, and there may have even been a smile in his eyes, although who could ever know. He always relished in the opportunity to find his captives' tipping point, especially when it got them to talk in the end. "I see." He stood up, and paced a bit. "Truth to tell, I don't really need the answer to what I already know. Other civilians have already tipped us off about this enough to confirm our suspicions. But, this-" he paused, thinking of the best word- "...dialogue, is so valuable for me, in assessing your co-operativeness", he gloated, gesturing from himself to the captive soldier. Saric turned toward him and came close, bent down forward facing Kellan, one hand on each arm rest, and the glowing red eyes peered into Kellan's. "Now", he said, his tone hinting the interrogation session was going more favorably than expected, "tell me the name of your informant."

He knew that Saric wouldn't stop there. He would get everything he needed to know, one way or another. Like it or not the Helghast official already knew his true identity. That much was obvious. That means he knew what kind of information Kellan had access to, and what he used to do the infiltration in the first place, And as for the informant, Kellan knew Saric was referring to a man named Zeus, a citizen of Containment city who guided him to the location of Tyran's base of operations. While the man didn't mean much to him personally, he didn't want Zeus getting tortured or killed on his account.

"I don't remember", Kellan muttered.

"You.. what?"

"I've got nothing to say to you."

Saric's temper crept up once more. He exhaled sharply, and said "thank goodness I am available to help refresh your memory." He went to a cupboard nearby and opened it. The hinges were squeaky and got stuck, but he yanked it open, almost breaking it. It looked like something meant for first-aid but had long fallen out of favor and use; the thing was half rusted over. Now, Kellan could just peer around its open door, but could see the shelves lined with numerous horrible implements. Shivs, forceps, needles; he didn't want to imagine it. The implements didn't even look clean. Saric looked over the collection, deliberating, and settled on a small paring knife.

He walked- more like, strolled- back to Kellan. Saric's afternoon council meeting was cancelled so he had all day. And, there was no one else helping with the interrogation, or expecting to supervise the soldier. It seemed like he really relished having someone before him bound and helpless. He grabbed Kellan by the back of the neck and looked him up and down. Then with a quick thumb he flicked the blade guard off of the knife, and held it to Kellan's unprotected neck.

"Do you think that this _person_ , the traitor, would do the same for you?" Saric danced the knife around the soldier's throat, then to his collar bone. The knife grazed along his skin, but it wasn't enough to produce a cut. The knife dipped just under the neck of his shirt, an old linen item. It was as part of his disguise for smuggling him in as a refugee. In order to sneak into the Containment city, he had to blend in with the other exiles, which meant dressing like them. So, it was awful and simple, the clothes he was captured in. The knife produced a small fray.

"Who do you mean."

"Not interested in your smart attitude, Shadow Marshal." Then the knife traveled lower. The cool metal passed down past his rib cage, his navel, past his belt buckle, pressing a little bit into the flesh although not enough to produce any cuts. "Think of all you have to lose, here. Even something as small as this piece of metal is capable of tremendous damage. It's not worth it, is it?" He reached down, braced Kellan's hip with one hand, and with the other brought the knife against Kellan's crotch, and it grazed across the front. That stunned Kellan into attention and he started sweating. He wasn't prepared to let the man mutilate him. Were there were some body parts he was, in fact, willing to lose for the sake of his mission? Possibly. But, not...

"W-Wait. The name... it's Zeus."

Saric stepped back and sighed. It was impossible to tell whether he was pleased with himself or disappointed at the lack of a good opportunity to hurt Kellan more. "All right, then." He wrote down a couple notes on a small handheld computer organizer with a stylus, then put it down off to the side. Now, the really juicy stuff.

"Now, my last question to you. What are the VSA access codes?"

"The- no. You can't mean-"

"I know what your clearance is, Shadow Marshal. The codes to the mainframe. The same access codes that are imprinted into your gear's fingerprint, were you to have it here."

Kellan said nothing, at war with himself. Of course this would be the last thing he asked. If they had their hands on this, the security division wouldn't need to waste any more time questioning him or any other VSA personnel. All bets were off. He would guard this with his life- he had to. The safety of all Vekta City, the outcome of the whole conflict, and Sinclair's trust all hung in the balance. Saric would never buy the argument that he didn't remember it. So, he said nothing, and just glared, willing to wait this situation out.

Saric started pacing, this time, away from the Kellan, toward the door. There was no way he could let the soldier go without obtaining this one last piece of information. It would be an enormous waste of a valuable opportunity like no other. He could tell this would be the toughest stumbling block. Maybe it would be easier to catch more flies with honey than vinegar, as the saying goes.

"Let me tell you something, Shadow Marshal."

Kellan simply glared.

"There are certain things you don't have to tell me. I just know." He stopped pacing, to turn and face him again. "In particular, I know what's going through your head right now. The questions you are asking. And it's not a 'what', but a 'who'."

The soldier frowned. "Is that so."

"You're wondering who it is, the one overseeing it all, that could ever have the power to keep you locked down here! Like a rat in a cage. After all, a distinguished operative of the VSA like yourself should be above all this." He drew out the word 'distinguished', a biting comment to the chained man.

"I don't need to wonder."

"I'll give you a hint. It's not Chancellor Visari." He lounged against the other table and ran a hand over his holstered, custom-made VC15 Judaz. "It's not the New Helghan Security Division. And..." He sighed, stood up to pace around, adjusted his torso plate. "It's not me." Kellan had his own suspicions.

"No. You see, it's you, Lucas Kellan. You put yourself here, and you alone have the key to your freedom." He reached down for the back of Kellan's head, grabbing it roughly, and brought them closely face-to-face, red bionic eyes boring into human ones. "Simply put, it's not me who decides these things. It never was. You smuggled yourself here illegally and got yourself caught by our enforcement, and now you have all the power in the world to get yourself out. Some would say we ought to charge your execution right here. But I'm reasonable. All you have to do is tell me what I need to know." 

"Fuck you. Why would you even need that? Once your people hack into the VSA, impersonate me or Sinclair, then you turn our attack drones on our own people. Vekta would be destroyed from within. Don't think I don't see what you're doing."

"Why? Why are you defending Sinclair? Why are you defending this broken-down, corrupt shell of a nation? Is that really a hill worth dying on? Your whole life has been dictated by their officials, controlled by their bureaucrats. What a miserable existence that must be. Do you think your life has any value to them, really? You owe them nothing, Shadow Marshal, and yet you're so keen to test the extent of my pursuasiveness."

"That's cute- acting like you know anything about _my_ relationship to Sinclair. The minute you attacked Vekta, you already lost."

Saric fell silent. Now he was thoroughly unimpressed. If Kellan were any other prisoner, being this unco-operative, he would simply run him through the gauntlet.

The 'whole gauntlet', meant in this case an extremely thorough interrogation process. One used by New Helghan security that has never ever failed. That is, for some definition of 'success' which includes anything up to the death of the subject. Saric lived up to his reputation for getting these done. Everyone broke in the end.

But, the circumstances surrounding this man's capture was different. Even though there was a high price for his head, Chancellor Visari was personally invested in the questioning, and saw his release as a potential bargaining chip like before. Kellan was one of the most skilled operatives the VSA had, so they had a lot to lose by getting him killed, and a lot to gain in getting him back in once piece. If the Helghast played their cards right, Visari supposed they could get Kellan to defect. It would be an enormously useful asset to their side- a long shot, but possible. Moreover, if they killed or maimed Kellan it would be taken as a personal affront to the Director of VSA forces, Thomas Sinclair. That would cause a whole world of shit. So, Kellan must be kept alive and reasonably intact. This was true the first time, and it was true now.

That being said, Saric's anger was getting the better of him and his patience was worse for wear. Kellan's attitude represented everything he hated about Vektans; an arrogance, a conceited attitude and disregard for whose territory this planet really was. This war, it wasn't really about him or Kellan, although they were both products of it. But these pro-Vektan, enemy loyalties always cut to the core of him and became personal.

"Your attitude is going to be a problem, isn't it?" Saric's voice was lowered to almost a whisper.

"There's nothing you can do to me." This was not entirely true- Kellan did cave earlier. But he needed to maintain the right front.

"Are you so sure about that?"

"If one of your people wanted me dead, I'd be dead five times over already. What, do you think I'm equipped to threaten this building or anyone here? You and your men are keeping me alive." He knew they probably couldn't maim him either- otherwise, wouldn't Saric have made good on his threat from before?

Saric sighed and raised his eyebrows in bored concession. "That's true. But a lot can happen to any one of us, short of death."

Kellan just glared wordlessly. Once again Saric paced toward Kellan and bent down at the waist, placing one hand on either armrest of the captive man's chair and meeting him eye-level. Saric's facepiece occupied nearly all of Kellan's vision, especially the glare from those red, glowing eyes. Kellan supposed the Helghast was either trying to intimidate him, or buy more time deciding what to do next. He wanted to be able to see past that red glow.

In any case, Saric hoisted him up, the chained handcuffs still attached to Kellan's wrists behind him. The heavy-duty, rusted chain was tethered to the floor. Saric unhooked it, reached up and reattached it to an iron beam on the ceiling. The length of the heavy chain was short enough, such that it forced Kellan into a standing position. He felt the blood rush back into his legs after being forcibly seated for the few hours.

Saric took hold of him by the neck, and used that to maneuver him closer to the back wall. He roughly turned Kellan around so that he was face-first in the coarse cement brick. Kellan didn't know what the man was planning and dared not look behind him. He heard some rustling, a drawer or a cabinet, then silence. For some slow, agonizing moments he could not see anything happen but supposed the official was readying some torture device, a taser or a torch, or something equivalently awful. In the silence all he could hear was his own heavy breathing and somehow, his pulse. The cement brick was cool against his skin. He wondered how many other unfortunate souls have been subjected to the same thing.

The footsteps again. He felt a presence behind him once more, and it was Saric who grabbed hold of his neck and used it to keep him pinned against the wall. As if he was going anywhere. The gloved hand was leathery with a sharpness from some attached plating. Now that they were both standing, it occurred to him that Saric was only a bit taller than him, not the towering figure in his head most of the time. There was the presence and the noise of a person behind him, although Saric didn't touch him except for to hold his neck. He probably tried to avoid sullying his hands too much while dealing with captives.

Then, he let go and Kellan heard him take a step back. Out of his peripheral vision, Saric had something, although it was hard to see what exactly it was. The weapon was a long, thin piece of metal with a handle that had some bend to it. Saric toyed with it to get the right amount of malleability for effective striking. Kellan had seen implements like these before, but they had never been used on him.

"Keep your back turned."

Finally, there was a loud crack, as the rod came down. It struck Kellan's back just around his shoulderblades; he knew it would leave a shallow welt. Then there was another, and another, and another. Saric struck him quickly, with some intent to hit the same place many times. Kellan was a seasoned soldier and used to his fair share of battle injuries, so the first few stripes weren't anything to be too concerned with. But after he lost count of the lashes, it must have been more than thirty, the ache was occupying half his mind. It was too much when the lashes overlapped each other. He didn't want to give Saric the satisfaction of hearing him scream. But, he started to tremble and felt his tough resolve crumbling away. There was a disgusting wetness dripping down his back.

Saric stepped back, breathing heavy from the exertion and massaging his right arm. Kellan wondered if the Helghast official always did all this himself, rather than just getting one of his underlings. Most likely this one was personal. But, some little marks on his back would not break him. He heard the noise the metal rod being set down somewhere, and some more rummaging around. In the corner of his eye he saw at least a piece of plastic, and a small bottle. The Helghast official strode up to him, pulled up a nearby chair and set all the items down on that. There was a long, agonizing silence where he could just feel the man looking at him. He heard some liquid poured onto the plastic, whatever that meant.

Gloved hands in front of him unfastened his pants and roughly pulled them down with his underwear, both gathering just above the knee, and his tattered shirt was pulled upward, bunching around his chest, for easier access. He felt a wetness drip down his ass, inside of him, and down to the floor. And then, something being inserted roughly inside. For a second the thought it might be Saric's dick. He would put nothing past him. But he looked back and saw Saric fully clothed. No, it was a small phallic-shaped piece of plastic, with an L-shaped bend at the end, lubed up so it could be wedged easily inside. He winced from the pain of having it pushed in. He shifted around to try and get a more comfortable positioning, although the chains didn't afford much. He felt the official grab the outside end of the plastic and shove it in just a bit more, as far as it could go, then jostle it a bit so it moved around inside of him. This finally did make him scream, and struggle a bit in the chains.

He thought the Helghast would have had his fun at this point and taken it out, but he didn't. Rather, he took some thick, elastic strapping with parachute buckles on each end and bound it around Kellan's hips. This held the object inside of him, so it would not fall out on its own. Even as he fastened up the bindings, even as Kellan moved, he could feel the hard object lodged inside of him, restricting his movement.

Now, Saric simply looked at Kellan up and down, satisfied with his handiwork. He reached up and adjusted a dial, which disengaged some of the chains so Kellan could get down on his knees or stand up. The Helghast made sure that Kellan's hands were still cuffed behind him. Kellan dropped to his knees carefully, giving himself a rest, in agonizing preparation for whatever was to come. Another beating, electrocution perhaps.

But it didn't. Nothing came. Instead, Saric simply went back to the table, changed his gloves, and tidied up the desk. Kellan was now free enough to face the door so he could see all this. The Helghast wrote some more notes down in his organizer, and typed a code into a security interface on the wall. Then he badged the door open and left, strolling out with his usual gait, tossing his organizer up into the air and catching it as he walked.

The door closed behind him. He couldn't help but notice that the questions stopped. So the implication was, that maybe Kellan would talk when he returned. If he ever returned. This was retribution for not co-operating. Kellan looked around and saw that while his bonds were loosened, escape was impossible. He couldn't get out of the chains, and every corner of this place was locked down. There was nothing to do except wait. It was impossible to get comfortable. He still felt the plastic stake tucked firmly inside and there was no way to shrug off the bindings. With his hands chained up there was no way to reach down and remove them, either.

Fuck.

* * *

If he could say anything about each passing minute here, it was monotonous. It must have been an hour or so, that he was planted here like this. There were some moments he could even forget about the object inside of him, at least until he moved. He knew Saric was still just toying with him, trying to figure out his breaking point. Maybe it was a beating, maybe it was quasi-sexual humiliation. Maybe that worked on some of their other captives.

And then he heard the door. It was the same footsteps. Saric.

Except, he did not say a word. No questions, no demands. Kellan already knew what the other man wanted to know, anyhow, there was no point in going over it again. He expected the questioning, the threats, the taser, but none came.

Rather, the other man calmly simply switched off his COM, and unhooked it from his earpiece. Kellan saw him unfasten some Velcro around his wrists, then take off each of his plated gloves and put them on the cabinet, as well as some sort of wristwatch. So his hands were as ghostly pale as the rest of him. Then piece-by-piece he removed all his other extra items. First took off his long, lined trenchcoat, folded it neatly, and set it down. Then went the pistol, and its holster attached to his belt as well. Then there was his collarpiece for the COM, another piece of bullet-resistant plate armor, one after another. Saric was left with the facepiece, a fitted black T-shirt and military trousers and boots. It was all that was left.

Kellan squinted, watching, trying to determine what this meant. It was strange seeing the man completely unarmed like this.

If he could hazard a guess, it signified he was in for a world of shit.

He could only suppose this was some new, horrible interrogation tactic of his that even the other Helghast security couldn't find out about. Saric stepped toward Kellan and grabbed the man's chin, and peered into his face. Saying nothing the Helghast simply stared. The bright red glare from the visor was hard on Kellan's eyes. He suspected that Saric was watching something on his optical overlay.

Kellan spat out, "You're wasting your time."

He expected some kind of angry retort or disgraceful comment about himself or Vektans, but Saric said nothing. Rather, in blinding swiftness he grabbed Kellan by the throat with one hand, the other took hold of his armpit, and yanked him up roughly. The plastic lodged inside of him made its presence known once again with a throbbing ache. Saric unclasped the bindings, seemingly pleased that they were the same as he left them, and discarded them on the chair. The stake ejected out a little bit but it was left where it was. Before he knew what was happening Saric unlatched the chain holding the captive man to the back of the room, and recuffed his hands in front of him rather than behind him, likely so they wouldn't get in the way. He hoisted Kellan over to the desk and deposited him there. Kellan didn't fight back, it all happened too quickly for him to register what was going on anyway. Besides, his hands were still chained together in front of him, making an escape attempt still inconceivable.

The Helghast then turned Kellan facing away, and bent him over the desk. He heard, and from the corner of his eye, he could see, the unbuckle of a belt. Oh, no. This wasn't-

"Why, why are you-"

He was unable to finish his sentence. Saric shoved his face right into the desk and rubbed it in there like he was cleaning it, knocking away all the papers and file folders. There was this metal design on the desktop that was rough against his face, coupled with the dull ache in his insides. Kellan instinctively started flailing on the desk. Then before he knew it his pants hand been pulled halfway down again and the plastic stake finally pulled out. It smarted a bit having it removed. Even now that it was gone, it felt loose as if the stake were still there. Curiosity got the better of him and he couldn't resist the urge to look behind him. He saw Saric, with his belt undone and fly pulled down, pulling his member out. Fuck, this was really happening. The Helghast grabbed Kellan's head once again and kept it in place on the desk. With the other hand, he grabbed his thick, pale member and nudged it against Kellan's backside, guiding it right against his sphincter muscle. How long did all this take, ten seconds? And they say romance is dead.

It was still difficult to penetrate the small ring of muscle. He understood now, Saric shoved that thing inside of him so that he could accommodate a dick. But, it was slightly smaller than Saric, and felt a lot different- the sharp corners of the hard plastic were replaced by smooth warm flesh. From the absence of any plastic he could tell that he used no protection. Finally after that and a forceful shove, Saric breached him. Then it wasn't too difficult to push the rest of the way. For the first time Kellan screamed. Saric withdrew a little bit and pushed back in again. It was so tight it was hard for the Helghast to move at all. The soldier used all the willpower he had to keep from clamping down on it so much, so that it would ease things and hurt less. In a few more pushes the Helghast could just barely manage to fuck him.

As sick as it was, Kellan could feel himself relaxing under the other man's body, since this was so much different from before. His body was reacting to it and involuntarily he started actually getting hard. It was a similar thing before, getting penetrated with that object, and that was cold and impersonal. Now, the Helghast's body was pressed up against his, grabbing him, holding him down, utterly used and pinned to the desk. Even through the remaining clothes, this time he felt the warmth of the other man's body flush on top of him. The member lodged inside of him was hot and fleshy, more accommodating than the plastic, nudging against something inside of him. Somehow he felt himself relax more than before, there was an unexplainable rush of blood downward and he melted under the other man's grip.

There was no kiss. There couldn't be. The Helghan's visor still concealed his face, and Kellan felt the sharpness of some of the corners of the mask move against him. There was just the nuzzling against his collar, pushing against him over and over together with the body holding him in place and the member being shoved roughly inside of him. The Helghast was fucking him more slowly than normal, probably so he would last longer. The visor was now closely pressed against his ear and he could clearly hear the breathing behind it. The breathing was soft and a bit ragged, and there was still air, warm breath, which permitted through registers in the jawpiece which he felt against his ear. He could almost feel like it was affectionate- almost, if it was from anyone else.

With their war apparel, the sometimes physical differences, and their brutal conduct, there were times when he wondered if the Helghast were really human. All around Vekta city there was widespread propaganda about the so-called natural divide of the Helghast and the Vektans. Now, he knew for sure. Underneath all the armor, at the end of the day, they were just flesh and blood like him. There was a soft underbelly, a kind of vulnerability about them, that he always supposed existed but never knew for certain. He knew now.

"Does it feel good? _Or does it hurt_?"

The whole thing was unreal. Kellan was sprawling, breathless, pressed down against the table by the full weight of his enemy. He wasn't going to dignify Saric's dirty banter with a response. Still, this was nothing like before. The last time was so cold and disengaged, almost medical; the Helghast seemed as if doing something routine and hardly touched him at all, aside from the obvious. Now it was different. He was being smothered. He felt like he was being made love to. The man was top of him, holding their bodies flush together, and he could feel the full weight of him, and the movement of his body slamming into his back, and the hands gripping onto his shoulders and grabbing his midsection, holding him in place. Kellan couldn't fight back even if he wanted to. Even though his body was more prepared for it than last time, he felt like he was going to be split in half. 

Saric pulled up Kellan's shirt so it bunched around his chest, revealing his toned figure dotted with so many bruises and small injuries from the capture, and the marks on his back that he couldn't feel anymore in comparison.The whole world went out of focus as the dull pain from his injuries just faded into the background and didn't matter. Even now it was so slow and intimate. His breathing became staggered and -no. He felt his face flush and the blood rush downward. If only by the physical stimulation, the subjugation, and such a powerful feeling of intimacy, he was completely hard. He braced himself against the table.

Saric seemed to notice. He withdrew completely, and grabbed Kellan roughly, turning him around to face him. His erection was uncomfortable, borderline painful, and obvious as anything. The Helghast looked him down and up, then let out a small self-satisfied chuckle. He roughly turned Kellan back around, and bent him down once again.

"Touch yourself." He gave the order. Kellan stammered, unsure of whether this was really happening or not. "You heard me." When the Helghast's voice was soft, it caused bits of static in the voice filter. The soldier turned his head back to look at Saric. The Helghast grabbed the back of his head and forced it back down into the desk again while continuing to fuck him. Reluctantly Kellan moved his hands downward and started stroking himself, a bit more slow and gentle than he was used to. Holy shit, it felt good compared to everything that happened before. He wondered if his hands were cuffed in front of him than behind him just for this purpose. Maybe that was giving him too much credit.

It was too much. With each time he was impaled on the enemy official together with the sensation on his dick, he felt himself coming closer, too close to the edge. He felt utterly helpless like this, yet he had this unstoppable tunnel vision on nothing else except his own physical gratification amidst all the torment to his body. The Helghast reached around and kept embracing him from behind, pawing at his stomach and chest. Kellan wondered if this was really what Saric had been planning. And he feared what would happen if he got all the way off, if he would be blamed for staining the desk, or given some special retribution. He was almost past the point of no return. So he stopped, leaving his aching, dripping member alone and rested his hands on the edge of the desk.

Saric thrust into him a few more times before he noticed. "I didn't say to stop."

So, he brought his hands back down and started stroking himself once more. It took almost nothing for him to get close, and all the way over the edge. Soon he started trembling and said nonsense. The feeling was aching, painful bliss. He cried out desperately, his whole body was shaking, and he screwed up his face into an agonized expression. Saric curiously bent down to get a closer look, to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong. Well, he was nothing if not considerate. No, he wasn't dying or anything. Saric realized, then, what was happening. It was impossible for Kellan to even think straight anymore, or rationalize everything with the assault on his body. The semen left him and splattered against the table.

The whole world faded into unreality and Kellan had drooled all over the desk. At the same time, he tightened right up involuntarily. Saric felt the man's insides clamping down around him and it then was hard for even him to keep control anymore. He fucked the captive man brutally, faster than before, for a few more moments until he simply couldn't last any more either. The red-eyed visor concealed his whole face, but out of the corner of his eye Kellan saw how he screwed up his eyebrows in the heat of the moment and lost control himself. He roughly shoved himself deep inside of Kellan as far as possible, then started coming. He had been fucking him with no protection, so the Helghast's seed completely filled up his insides, got on his clothes and dripped down his thighs. He rode it out all the way and Kellan felt the member still twitching inside of him. There was more seed leaking out as Saric finally pulled out.

The hazy world returned to clarity. He heard Saric zipping up his fly and buckling his belt. Kellan's hands were free enough to reach down and get his pants back on. Saric just looked at him for another moment, not saying a word, then he simply up and left. Kellan supposed Saric was giving him one more chance to talk, maybe he had found his breaking point. 

If Kellan didn't know better, he'd think the other man was bent on destroying him.

If there was some means of escaping this, he was no closer to it than when he was first brought here.

* * *

The explosion was deafening; he heard it coming from outside. There was some kind of a security breach. He heard a conversation on the other side of the wall.

"Also-."

"Also, what?" This voice was more familiar.

"I doubt Sinclair will appreciate you dumping your genetic material into his favorite officer. He has to be released back to the Vektan side eventually, otherwise all negotiations will shut down. What if this causes another war?"

"Let them. I hope that it does."

The speakers left quickly, with some more footsteps that he assumed were more militia. Someone had infiltrated the New Helghan base. Maybe it was Black Hand, although he doubted it. Kellan had an inkling as to whom it was, but there was no one around. The alarms were all blown and showed out-of-order, and his chains and the door disengaged. He grabbed the radio on the floor; there was a voice on the other end, beckoning him to follow certain instructions for which route to take. Maybe it was all a clever ruse. He wouldn't put it past them. But in seeing daylight he was going to go for it. Kellan escaped the facility with the help of the anonymous operative on the other end.

He made his way through the vents, down the recycling center chambers, through munitions storage. There were boxes all around, except for one clear path to the next door.

But, the radio cut out. The operative was gone, and he was on his own now.

He waited until the coast was clear, and moved behind the next cover. One after another. The guards were thinned out because of the alarm pealing all around. He crept behind one lone guard, subdued him, and seized the long-range rifle. It shouldn't be too much further to the exit.

He climbed up the overlook tower at the far corner of the warehouse-like room. It was a promising vantage point. He saw the discarded equipment from the guards that had deserted their post after the explosion. There were bullet holes in one of the far walls, from some kind of skirmish. But more interesting was the conference room.

He saw him. Saric.

He was talking to another Helghast official; it must have been the same one he heard talking before. The rifle was shaking in his hands. The model was sufficient to snipe them both from here. It was a clean enough shot.

He wouldn't do it.

That could be something he'd regret later, but that was that. Even a shot here was a risk; it would blow his cover.

* * *

In the days that followed, he continued on to escape the facility, and crossed back over the Wall. When his colleagues in the defense noticed him crossing over they held their fire and deactivated the drones to make way for him. It was a relief, leaving the polluted Containment City for the familiar, clean air of the Vektan side. He got cleaned up, recovered his normal gear, including his long-missed Spoor. He thought that it would be safe back on his side.

It was a beautiful summertime day, fitting for his return to the other side. The sun was bright, beaming down filtered rays through the clusters of trees and the glass pedestrian overpass further off. The sky was open and clear, birds chirping further off in the lush environment, the clean air nothing like the polluted smog of Containment City. Kellan found himself returning first to the park overlooking VSA headquarters, that too, was exactly like how he remembered. The grounds were clean and beautifully landscaped, a stream running through the middle and neat gardens all around. The park was connected to a busy, modern Vektan shopping center pathed with meticulous ornamental brick. It was a beacon showcasing the beauty of the Vektan planet. It bore some similarity to the more exquisite aspects of the old Earthly countries together with the economic power and accomplishments of its people. Somehow, the bright displays with advertisements and Vektan political emblems blazoning over all the walls went along well against the more naturalistic landscaping. Since Kellan's return, he had not yet seen the VSA Director, who was on a leave overseeing a training operation outside the City. He expected to meet Sinclair here.

"We've been waiting for you, son." The greying, freckled man looked the same as Kellan remembered him. Dressed in some light military attire, the green Vektan colors, his high rank igsinia showed him to be more of a politician and commander of war nowadays. He spent the earlier parts of his career in a position much like Kellan's. He risked life and limb for the VSA and ISA, leading an assault team and being promoted through the ranks. His combat experience and knowledge made him the perfect mentor for someone like Kellan, who had lost both parents at a young age. Now, even though they looked nothing like one another, Sinclair was a father figure of sorts to him, there was no one in the world that Kellan loved as much. But, Sinclair was not like most people. His beliefs and dismissal of all Helghast- Black Hand, militia, or otherwise- as enemies, were resolute and unwavering. This went so far as to cause friction with the Vektan political representatives and the other VSA officials. It never overly concerned Kellan in the past, because Sinclair raised him to mirror his own, unquestioning beliefs- because his loyalty and duty to the VSA were unconditional.

"Sinclair." Kellan dropped his equipment and gave the man a big hug. "It's so good to be back!"

The man smiled warmly. "You've been through so much, Kellan."

"In all honesty, sir, I'm just surprised it happened again. The capture, I mean."

"Trouble has a way of finding you, doesn't it?" This was trivializing the whole thing, but it was definitely true.

Kellan sighed. "Yeah."

"There's something I wanted to... discuss. With you, that is. Can we sit down somewhere?"

They relocated themselves to a conference room tucked away in the shopping center. It was private enough to avoid any noise or distractions.

"What is it? The suspense, it's-"

Sinclair interrupted him. His tone was different- cold, stiff and serious. "You've been captured by the Helghast... Twice, I suppose. And made it out pretty unscathed. Twice. And that's great."

"Why do I feel like there's a 'but'."

The VSA Director sighed deeply, looking up, choosing his words. "Kellan, you know I appreciate all you've done. We all do. The committee were all willing to discharge you with full honors, But now it looks like now, even that isn't possible."

"Discharge? Who said anything about leaving the force?! You've served for a lot more years than I have. Campaigns more."

"Look, Kellan, it's not that we don't trust you. Hell, I want to trust you. More than anyone else in my life. I've done my damndest to raise you the right way. When one of our highest-ranking operatives is captured by the Helghast, it changes things. They've been telling you things. Spoonfeeding you their ideologies, their lies, getting you to sympathize with them. We can't be sure of where your loyalties lie."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"So then, let me cut to the most important thing. Your escape was recorded by the facility cameras after our team intercepted them. We have the footage. We saw that you had the opportunity to kill a certain 'Anton Saric'. Some of their other high-ups, as I take it."

The world felt like it was crashing down. "I didn't, because it would blow my cover and compromise the escape."

"Do you have any idea what that assassination would have gained us?? It would have shut down their whole campaign, bought us more time, and yet you wasted the whole opportunity! For what? Honestly now, which is more valuable to you, our war or yourself?" Sinclair took a moment to cool down, collect himself and catch his breath. "I can only attribute this to Helghast brainwashing during your capture, which they have a precedent for doing."

Kellan was reeling, incredulous. He knew Sinclair had some pretty radical beliefs before, but this was complete insanity. "Bull crap. This is complete bull crap."

"Anyway, that was your lapse in judgement. And so it goes. If it were just that, I could excuse it." So, this was going to be the whole riot act, not just part of it. "We also got word of your assisting some Helghast civilians after you crossed the Wall."

"They were dying! What other option was there?" Sinclair was referring to some medical supplies he gave away to them, rather than return them to the Vektan side. It's not like they were very valuable.

"They are the enemy."

"They're civilians! No matter what side of the Wall, we should be helping them."

"Are you hearing the words that are coming out of your mouth?" Sinclair lost his temper once more. "Civilian, militia, it's all the same! The Hig bastards are in league together, to wipe out every last one of us. You've been duped, fooled by the lot of them. I'm sorry it has come to this, Kellan." He noticed he didn't call him 'son' anymore. His heart sank. Sinclair's voice went cold. "You have one option. Resign now. Just disappear. Relocate outside Vekta City, forfeit your rank, all your possessions and your identity, start over. We could arrange some kind of new employment for you at one of the factories, and least temporarily. It won't pay a lot, but that's the best we can do."

"No. You can take away my job. Take away my rank, fine. But, I've built my whole identity here in Vekta City. Even more than that, I don't want to lose you."

"Then, you leave me no choice." The VSA official quickly drew out his pistol from its holster and disengaged the safety. Kellan clued into this immediately. For better or for worse, he knew how Sinclair operated. He was a ruthless man, quick on the draw, willing to eliminate anyone who could compromise the VSA, even if it was practically his own son. And now he was willing to kill him. It was like the whole world was crashing down and nothing made sense anymore. Kellan sprang for Sinclair's weapon and tried to wrest it from the older man's arms. He tried to get better footing to trip the other man up, but Sinclair was an apt fighter despite his age and deflected it.

After a long deadlock Kellan got the upper hand and pointed the barrel of the gun away, moving Sinclair's hand away from the trigger, at least. With the other hand Sinclair punched Kellan soundly in the side of the head, and Kellan shoved his elbow into the other man's face. There was enough force to push Sinclair back and his grip loosened. In that tiny window of time, Kellan seized the opportunity and snatched the gun away.

"Sinclair, I gave you my whole life."

"No, Kellan-"

Sinclair was not one to give up, and sprang for the gun once more. But this time Kellan had the upper hand, and his finger was on the trigger as a show of warning, or maybe it was just instinct. He didn't have it in him to shoot the man who raised him. But Sinclair grasped for his dominant hand and they deadlocked once more. Kellan tried to use his elbow to get more leverage but it was no use. Finally, Sinclair reached for the trigger with both hands and closed them down over Kellan's, intending to force him to fire the gun.

The shot fired, echoing all around.

Kellan couldn't internalize what had just happened. He shot Sinclair.

* * *

Time went by, the two factions had yet to reach a compromise. The attacks from the Black Hand spurred on more resentment between the two sides of Vekta. It was becoming more and more difficult for Visari to assert a lack of association between New Helghan and Stahl. She and the Helghast officials continued to distance themselves from the Black Hand's acts of terrorism, as well as maintain no official connection to Stahl Arms, but there was no way to rebuild the trust that was lost. To add fuel to that fire, political demonstrations on planet Gyre had recently lead to a full-scale violent uprising. The Helghast workers overthrew Gyre's pro-Vektan government and established their own leadership, causing so much bloodshed on both sides. It was clearer every day that war was on the horizon.

Behind the scenes, Visari worked to try and achieve another ceasefire, supposing that the VSA's new leader may be more amicable to the idea. And with that in mind, Sinclair's death disrupted the operation of the VSA for a time. A new, temporary head of operations was interviewed, appointed and rotated out each couple of months until a new, permanent replacement was found. But in the grander scheme of things, it changed very little. The new appointed Director maintained many of the same extremist attitudes as the man she replaced. It was no coincidence- many of the same Vektan independence activists on the committee for the appointment of Sinclair took the vote for the new Director, as well. They voted first and foremost to advance their political agenda. That was not to say they ignored candidates' competence, but a more moderate Director would have been out of the running right away.

Even though a formal declaration of war had yet to take place, both sides were busy in thickening their defenses and stockpiling military resources. It may very well be that this would simply end in another cold war. Still, no one was willing to take that bet.

At the New Helghan security base, a decorated military operative in Helghast heavy-duty gear stepped out onto the observation deck. The soldier was clearly several ranks above everyone else, but still bearing the red arm band and Triad insignia. The three red cyborg eyes illuminated his vision. The operative was dressed in some of the cloaking materials used for their snipers, but used a combination assault rifle and sniper rifle, and now benefited from the new optical overlay. He couldn't keep using his LSR44 because it was a Vektan-made firearm, but its replacement was more than suitable. It did take some getting used to, seeing the base from this angle, and the sound of his new voice through the modulator. And the uncomfortable fact of being one of the small handful in their corps of Vektan blood. In any case, he didn't want to think about the past any more. It was fortunate enough to be alive after all that happened, much less to avoid indictment and escape the Vektan side.

"Exton to 1-8. Do you copy?"

"Copy".

He could forgive himself. In fact, he already moved on. What mattered were his new orders. He checked that his rifle was at the ready and his sidearm, attached differently to the new gear. He understood now how all his past ties could be so easily erased forever by chance of war. There was no turning back- no return to the other side.


End file.
